


Becoming a Musketeer

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, d'Artagnan is 18 years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: Annelie wanted to see a sequel or a stand alone to Eight Years After on when d'Art got his commission. According to my post I did this in 2015 and updated 2017.I don't want to make this very long. So I'll see how it goes.Aramis is now 38, Porthos/Athos are 39.In case my readers have forgotten and need to re-read it, or for newbies, here's the link to Eight Years After:https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546995/chapters/31081803Also the link to the original story, from which that story came from, Three Musketeers and a Bebe:https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415266/chapters/16842121++++Marked Teen and Up because there may be some violence somewhere down the line. Not sure.See notes at bottom++++
Relationships: The inseparables are d'Artagnan's parents
Comments: 56
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

_Mid morn - Louvre, Royal Throne room_

Kneeling before his friend, d'Artagnan trembled with excitement waiting for the king to commission him. Today he officially became inducted into His Majesty's service. Feeling the weight of the sword touch each of his shoulders in turn, he then heard the words - _rise, mon Musketeer_. When gaining his feet, his dark eyes met the brightness of the royals, not to mention his best friend ever - the Dauphin. Slowly turning around, d'Artagnan faced a room full of proud soldiers. The proudest of them, however, were his papas and Constance, or _maman_ as he affectionally called her at times.

++++

Athos and Porthos knew this day had been coming and were well pleased for their son. Aramis and Constance had yet to have any children of their own and so d'Artagnan had all of their attention and love.

Milady stood close beside Constance. The latter had become quite a good friend to her. As for her ex, she and Athos still danced around their former and current relationship. Though they rubbed along better as a divorced couple than they ever had when married. "Ah! Look who managed to be here." Pointing toward the entrance Milady indicated the large, colorful figure that had just arrived, plumed feathers and all dangling from his chapeau.

Captain Roussel thought he was going to be late for the ceremony, since he had a deuce of a time finding a suitable open dock for Le Corsaire Rouge. Noting the pup rising to his feet, he realized he got here just in time. Pride filled him watching Athos fit the pauldron upon d'Artagnan's right shoulder.

Flea had come over to his side, smiling. "I wondered if you were going to show yourself here."

"Had smooth sailing until trying to dock in this infernal place." Roussel was still somewhat irritated at that.

"We've been lucky to have a good deal of trade coming our way lately. Tis why the docks were so overcrowded." The large man's grunt of acknowledgement made Flea's eyes twinkle.

++++

D'Artagnan's upper body was certainly going to be sore later from all the back slaps he received, not counting numerous squeezes to his shoulders in congratulations. Still, it was well worth it. Feeling the presence of someone standing close to him, his head twisted to the side. The past years have done wonders for Louis. The thirteen year old had shot up in height, just going past d'Artagnan's shoulders now. Considering he was slightly over six feet that was quite an accomplishment for his younger friend.

"I can't wait to eat," quietly murmured Louis. "I heard Chef Morin's outdone himself yet again in your honor."

"It has been some time since you and I have run in and out of his kitchen." Grinning, d'Artagnan punched the other boy lightly in the arm. "Chef's probably celebrating that in itself."

" _D'ART!_ "

There was only one person d'Artagnan knew that could bellow his name in quite that manner. Observing the towering privateer approach, he laughed with delight. "Captain, tis good to see you." Being lifted up in the air to have the life almost squeezed out of him, similar to when papa Porthos hugged him, d'Artagnan found himself holding on for dear life. When his feet touched the floor again, he stepped back to gaze into the older man's warm gaze. "I'm honored you could be here."

"My ship listens to me," Roussel chuckled. "Can't say my crew responds as easily." Feeling something soft curling around his boot, he looked down. "Ah, Alex, mon petite." The cat had grown up as had the young Gascon standing in front of him. "Does she still get into mischief, d'Art?"

"You should ask me that question." Richelieu joined them as he bent to pick Alex up. The cat purred with content the minute he held her to his chest. Stroking her head, he smiled. "She has a way of sneaking into my office and causing a great disturbance with the rest of my furry friends." Looking at d'Artagnan, Richelieu was well pleased. "You now belong to the king's regiment. How does it feel?" he arched a brow. "Tis something you worked years to attain."

"The weight of my pauldron is going to take time getting used to but I'm up for the challenge." Sending a cheeky week toward the First Minister, d'Artagnan beamed.

"Speaking of _challenges_ ," Constance snuck up behind her son to hug him. "You're so tall now that I can't reach up to muss your hair any longer."

"Something for which I'm eternally grateful for," teased back d'Artagnan, hugging her. Then papa Aramis took his turn immediately followed by papa Athos and papa Porthos. Thinking that was the end of it, he felt himself spun around to be swallowed up in Captain Treville's arms.

"We are all so proud of all your accomplishments." His gruff voice occasionally cracked with emotion but Athos tried his best to keep it steady.

"Shame however that your pauldron looks so shiny and new." Winking at his kid, Porthos laughed.

"Give it a week and it'll start looking like ours," smirked Aramis. "Your fellow brothers are going to make sure of it."

"Gentlemen and madame," King Louis addressed them, including Constance of course, "I want to steal my newest Musketeer away for a bit."

All of them stepped back from His Majesty and watched the royal walk off with the younger man.

"Louis," following his older friend, d'Artagnan was curious as to their destination, "may I ask where you're taking me?"

"Anne, myself and our son have some gifts for you and they're all outside in the royal gardens."

Anne chose that moment to join them, taking the teenager's arm in her own. Then her son came over to the Gascon's other side to bump shoulders with d'Artagnan.

Once his eyes took only a moment to adjust to the brightness outside they then widened in shock. In front of him stood a beautiful white stallion with a black diamond-shaped mark in the middle of his forehead. Upon its back was a hand-tooled Spanish saddle along with matching saddlebags.

"We know Tempest is older now and may not be able to stay the pace a soldier needs," offered Anne.

"The horse is from my parents, mon ami," said Louis, "but these are from me." He produced, from behind his back, a poignard forged in gold with the letter _'D'_ engraved upon the ornate hilt. Noting his best friend's stunned look, Louis then gave d'Artagnan a pair of pistols with fancy scroll work along the frame and barrel.

The horse alone was more than enough, however, with the younger boy's gifts thrown in, d'Artagnan couldn't get his vocal chords to work. All he could do was hug each of them in turn, mumbling all the while about how grateful he was for them being in his life.

"We have gifts for you as well, child. But they are back home." Placing a hand upon his son's shoulder, Athos then squeezed the back of the lad's neck. D'Artagnan was so engrossed with the royals that he hadn't heard his approach. Looking over the horse, Athos' lips pursed. "He's a true beauty and worthy of you, son."

"We thought so when we purchased him," remarked King Louis.

"I had the chance to try him out. Wait until you see how fast he runs." A teasing note entered young Louis' voice. "You're excuses for running late for appointments have now gone by the wayside."

"Think you're funny, eh?" chortled d'Artagnan. "I can't wait to try him out." Papa was still standing beside him and appeared to have more to say so he gave him his full attention.

"When the celebrations end here we shall continue them at our house," said Athos. "I expect another full house to be in attendance there."

"Tis going to be a long day for you, d'Art." Having come outside to admire the royal's gifts to the boy, Richelieu studied the young Gascon. A smile briefly touched his lips upon remembering what a precocious petit the boy had been and actually still was to a certain degree. "I've already given you my blessing as I do over every new soldier that enters our ranks but I have something of a great personal nature to gift you with as well." From within the folds of his cape Richelieu took out a box and gave it to d'Artagnan. "Open it."

When d'Artagnan had, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the present. Twas a ring with a unique colored stone in its center. "What's the gemstone called?"

"Ah," tapping the ring with a slim finger, Richelieu explained. "Tis a _bloodstone_. Tis supposed to be linked to Christ's crucifixion. The belief is that Jesus' blood from his wounds dripped upon the dark green Earth, which then turned it to stone. Hence its name. It also inspired the long held belief in its exceptional powers of healing wounds." Privately Richelieu felt that the boy should wear it at all times considering the amount of trouble d'Artagnan manages to find. "I've had it re-sized to fit you," he added. "Monetary value aside, that ring was presented to me when I became First Minister. However, I've decided that when tis my time to depart this life I've found that I don't want to take it with me." Smiling, Richelieu contined. "Not that I'm expecting to expire anytime soon." Listening to d'Artagnan and the others chuckle at that, he was highly amused.

"I don't know what to say." Humbled by the history behind the ring, d'Artagnan was momentarily speechless.

Kissing first one side of the Gascon's face, then the other, Richelieu's expression became serious. "Just don't pawn it as some soldiers tend to do when they find themselves short upon funds."

"Actually I'd be more afraid of losing it or wearing it for fear of being robbed." Placing the ring upon his finger, d'Artagnan studied how it caught the light.

"Mmmmm," hummed Richelieu. "That is a problem. I see that now." He still felt the lad should wear it for protection but hesitated pointing that out.

"I suggest, d'Artagnan, that you wear it upon formal occasions," offered Athos, "of which there would be many I am quite sure."

"Capital idea," agreed King Louis, as he listened in to the conversation.

"Very good then." Pleased, Richelieu was happy he'd passed on the heirloom. Somewhere down the road he would discuss with the lad about not being afraid to wear it all the time. Never having considered himself superstitious, Richelieu believed in the protective powers of the bloodstone.

"Let's go back inside," announced Queen Anne. "I'm sure our guests wondered if we've all been kidnapped." Her words motivated the others to do as she suggested, followed by amused laughter.

"I shall have your horse delivered to your home after our festivities have concluded." Smiling, King Louis clapped the boy's shoulder. "You'll have to come up with a suitable name for him later."

"Oui," d'Artagnan nodded. "I'll have to give it considerable thought. Right this minute I've just realized how famished I am."

++++

_Later, around four in the afternoon - d'Artagnan's home_

Joining Constance in the kitchen, d'Artagnan silently watched her icing her creation. "I don't think anyone else could stuff themselves with anymore food after what we've already eaten."

Grinning, Constance stepped upon tiptoes to kiss the boy's cheek. "There's always room for more dessert. Just ask Porthos." To which they both ended up laughing over. Finished with the cake, Constance shooed him out of her way. "Go on with you, tis your day to enjoy."

Doing as she asked, d'Artagnan went back out to the main room where his papas were.

"You've done us all proud." Aramis was happy and sad at the same time. His petit was now a man. He now began to feel his own years. Aramis never considered himself old at thirty eight years of age but lately he's noted that he wasn't as swift with a sword as he used to be. Even his aim had suffered with a few inaccuracies of late.

"Kid, I've never seen such a richness of presents before." Porthos' booming voice filled the room before kissing the top of his son's head.

Blushing, d'Artagnan looked around him to see if anyone witnessed that. Guess not, as he wasn't teased over it. Surrounded by all the guests, and his famille, he said, "I shall bring honor to the regiment. I swear it."

"We know that, child." Giving his boy something to drink, Athos observed the pup wrinkling up his nose, making a face.

"This... this isn't wine." Swiping at his mouth, d'Artagnan glared at papa.

"I felt you would appreciate something stronger today." Lips twitching, Athos was amused at the child's reaction to the spirits. "Twas whiskey."

"I'll stick to wine or the occasional lager from now on," retorted d'Artagnan, eyeing the glass of whiskey he still held as if twere the enemy.

"Tis an acquired taste, whelp," said Porthos. While Aramis stood beside him grinning. Then the marksman took the whiskey from the boy to hand d'Artagnan a glass of wine instead.

"Merci." Once d'Artagnan finished his drink, he stifled a yawn behind his hand. Twas not very late in the day yet everything was beginning to catch up to him. Shaking the tiredness off, he still had a roomful of friends to greet which included Captain Treville, Flea and Captain Roussel.

Going over to his wife, Aramis bent to kiss the side of her neck.

Batting him away, Constance hissed, "Not with everyone looking on."

Chuckling, Aramis hugged her close. "I don't believe d'Artagnan's going to last out the rest of the day to partake of your divine confection." It hadn't gotten past him how the lad tried to hide his yawn.

Rolling her eyes, Constance began cutting it. "Why don't you and the others do something to entertain him then?" Listening to Captain Treville and Roussel swapping stories, she shook her head. "Better yet, get Captain Roussel to tell d'Artagnan about what trouble he got up to upon the high seas."

"See that's one of the reasons I married you, Constance. You could always be counted upon to come up with a good plan." With a quick kiss to her lips, Aramis headed for where the large privateer stood boasting of his past adventures.

++++

Enlisting Roussel's help, Aramis stood aside as he listened in to some pretty tall tales Roussel regaled his son with. Joined by Athos and Porthos, they all surrounded their pup, wondering at how lucky they got.

++++

 _Poignard_ \- dagger

 _Bloodstone_ \- This gemstone is dark green in color from a variety of the chalcedony family. Adorned with a splatter of bright red. It has been popular for at least two thousand years. It's cryptocrystaline quartz. The belief mentioned in the story is true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, early morn_

_D'Artagnan's home_

Going into their barn, d'Artagnan looked over the white beauty leisurely munching the oats that had been left for him. He tried to come up with a suitable name, even losing sleep over it. Mentally going through another list of possibilities, he kept going back to the same one. Putting aside the barrel of oats, d'Artagnan quietly murmured the mount's new name in its ear. When the animal stopped eating to stare into his eyes, d'Artagnan whimsically thought the horse had agreed to it.

++++

Back inside the house, d'Artagnan helped papa Porthos prepare breakfast. God alone only knew that papa Athos couldn't even boil water without a mishap. Aramis, living apart from them now, meant that one of them had to step up in the cooking department. It fell squarely upon his and papa Porthos' broad shoulders. All things being equal, papa Athos made up for his lack of culinary skills by taking upon a major portion of caring for all their horses. However, d'Artagnan informed him that he wanted the sole responsibility of caring for Louis' and Anne's gift. Especially if he wanted the horse to get used to him. "I've come up with a name if either of you are interested."

Both older men turned to look back at their son expectantly. In Porthos' case, he shook a skillet at the lad. "I ain't got all day ta make this breakfast. So 'urry it up."

" _Rebelle._ " Smiling, d'Artagnan went back to making their omelettes the way Constance had taught him.

Exchanging smirks, Athos and Porthos thought the name quite appropriate for their son's horse.

"Well matched then," murmured Athos. "Two rebel souls together."

"We're in fer it now." Chuckling, Porthos placed a large plate of hot pancakes upon the table. "Kid gets inta enough trouble," he grunted. "Now 'e's got a soulmate ta do it was all the more."

Athos had not considered that. Frowning darkly, he stared at the boy. "I assume telling you to avoid confrontations that do not have anything to do with duty is just a waste of my breath." His son's amused snort was Athos' answer. He was not surprised.

"I'll tell Aramis and Constance later when I drop off the bolts of material she asked me to pick up for her." Stomach growling, d'Artagnan couldn't wait to dig in. Papa Porthos made the best pancakes, thanks to an old recipe handed down to them when Serge ruled the canteen.

"Enough talkin'," announced Porthos, "let's get down ta eatin' before the food cools."

"I can do that." Sitting down, all d'Artagnan could think about was what new adventure awaited him once he officially reported to the Garrison as a Musketeer.

++++

_Palais-Royal_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, which had become an all too common occurrence of late, Richelieu sighed. "Try to get the lad to wear it and not hide it away for some special event as was mentioned at his commissioning."

Studying the other man closely Treville wouldn't say it out loud but was surprised to discover, after all these years, that the cardinal held to superstitious beliefs. "I'll endeavor to do my best."

"You believe me addled and are too much of a gentleman to call me upon it." Having sarcastically thrown that at the captain, Richelieu's lips tightened into a thin line.

" _Addled_... non." Shaking his head, Treville's amusement was apparent. "I wasn't going to say anything but since you're the one bringing it up I will. You honestly think that ring of yours would protect the boy?"

"The bloodstone's properties have been well documented. There have been too many reports of its ability to heal to scoff at it."

Noting how serious Richelieu considered this, Treville nodded his head. "If d'Artagnan argues about keeping the ring safely tucked away I'll make it an order that he can't get out of."

"That is why you're the _captain_." Sarcasm dripped from Richelieu's voice, accompanied by a snuff of laughter. Glancing over at the clock, his eyes met Treville's again. "The boy will soon be reporting for duty." Adding an afterthought, he grinned. "Brace yourself if you haven't already."

Blue eyes dancing, Treville reached for his chapeau lying upon the edge of the cardinal's desk. Jauntily tilting it to one side, he laughed. "I've survived the wars thus far. I shall survive one young Gascon hothead as well." Closing the door behind him, he heard Richelieu's loud shout of laughter.

++++

_Garrison_

_Captain Treville's office_

"Where's your poignard?" Looking the lad over, Treville's eyes narrowed upon the boy. "And where the deuce are your pistols?" Observing the young man shift from foot to foot, he held up his hand supposing now was the time. "You've convinced yourself that something terrible's going to happen to them if you're seen wearing them. Just like the cardinal's gift of a ring." Drumming fingers upon a pile of ledgers, he offered d'Artagnan some advice. "They were meant to be used, lad, not hidden deeply away until your too old to make use of them."

Standing up, he walked around his desk. "I suppose you also kept those saddlebags at home too." Guilt wrote itself across d'Artagnan's expressive face, as clearly as Trevlle's own scrawl appeared at the bottom of everything he signed off upon. Clapping his hands together, he walked a complete circle around the boy. "First order of business for the day, d'Art," stabbing a finger into the air, Treville watched the lad swallow nervously, "go back home to retrieve your presents. I want to see those saddlebags upon your new mount and those gifts from the Dauphin attached to your weapons belt."

"Anything else, Sir?" As far as orders go, these certainly were unexpected ones. D'Artagnan would constantly be worrying that he'd have to fight off cut-purses to keep his property safely out of voleur's greedy hands.

"Oui," snapped Treville, making the pup jump to attention again. "Remember to wear your ring while you're at it."

"But the value..." his voice trailing away, d'Artagnan was taken aback.

"His Eminence would greatly appreciate you placing it where it belongs... _upon your finger_." Placing a hand upon the younger man's shoulder, Treville gave it a gentle shake. "Let's humor him in this request."

With a sharp nod of his head d'Artagnan stepped away from the captain and made for the door, all the while muttering under his breath.

Once d'Artagnan had departed, Treville hoped he'd done the correct thing. Twas all well and good for Richlelieu to want the boy to wear that ring but what if having that treasure upon the his person brought d'Artagnan nothing but problems. Thinking of this just game him a headache. And speaking of _headaches_... eyes skimming over his desk again made him wince. Several of those missives waiting to be replied to were matters of import and best attended to now not at some later date. With that thought in mind, he sat back down to give his wrist a work out.

++++

_D'Artagnan's home_

"Eh, runt, what are ya doin' back 'ere already?" Not waiting for a response, Porthos plowed on. "Ya couldn't of pissed off the captin' already." Worried that something had gone awry, his gaze narrowed upon the pup.

"Captain Treville wanted me to present myself to him wearing Louis' gifts to me including using those saddlebags upon Rebelle as well."

"At least ya didn't hide away that Spanish saddle." Gently, Porthos pushed his son toward the boy's room. "Go get yer things. Don't wanna upset Treville anymore than it sounds like 'e already is." When d'Artagnan disappeared into the room, Porthos went back to mending some rips in his own uniform.

++++

_Garrison_

_Courtyard_

"Much better," grunted Treville as he stood in front of the lad. His eyes then lowered to stare at that confounded ring. Once he had, his eyes closed briefly.

"Something wrong, Sir?" Swallowing nervously, d'Artagnan wondered what he'd done wrong this time.

Waving the boy's concern aside, Treville signaled to another Musketeer to join them. "Vachel, I want you and d'Art to do a routine patrol within the city limits. I already have other units doing so. Perhaps you'll encounter them to compare notes." Treville couldn't help but note how Vachel was checking out d'Artagnan's weapons belt. Sighing, he really hoped there wouldn't be any jealousy rearing its ugly head. Vachel had only been with the regiment a year and barely knew the boy. He may have done the lad a disservice in making it an order to make use of what he'd been presented with. Bien, he couldn't take it back now. What's done is done.

++++

"I hear congratulations are in order for you," remarked Vachel. "But aren't you rather young for this position?"

"I've only been working toward this since a child," shrugged d'Artagnan. "Anyway age is relative." Smiling, he dipped his head. "Merci though." When both of them went for their horses, he heard Vachel's gasp of shock.

"How could you afford a stallion of this caliber?"

The other man, d'Artagnan knew, hadn't been a Musketeer long so Vachel didn't know his own history with the royals or his relationship with the inseparables. "Rebelle was an unexpected present from Their Majesties upon my commission." Vachel's eyes appeared ready to bulge out of their sockets.

"The saddle too I assume." Who was this boy? Vachel began to wonder if d'Artagnan was somehow of the nobility and that it had been kept hush hush. It wouldn't be the first time something of that nature happened around here. He was a man who liked to get to the point of the matter right away. So without beating about the bush, Vachel pushed forward. "If I may be so bold as to ask your status within this regiment?"

"My _status_?" D'Artagnan wasn't quite sure where Vachel was going with this. "I'm newly commissioned... that's my _status_."

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" questioned Vachel, with more interest than was healthy. But as the lad kept silent, he guessed that he did have too after all. Rolling his eyes, he asked, "Are you related to the king and queen that they would honor you with such gifts?"

_Ah!_ Now the other shoe had dropped. D'Artagnan was expecting this, just not so soon. "They have known me since I was a bébé and I might as well add that the Dauphin is my best friend too." He quirked a brow. "Satisfied?"

Folding his arms, Vachel had to start being concerned about being saddled with this kid. Perhaps all the Gascon was good for was being pretty and having friends in high places. "Next thing you're going to tell me is that your père's are the inseparables." He knew the boy had trained with them but that was all he knew.

"You really are new if you don't know that by now," retorted d'Artagnan, much to his own stunned surprise. "Apparently you don't listen to gossip."

"And Captain Treville's entrusting you into my care." Now Vachel was definitely concerned about patrolling with the kid.

" _Excusez-moi!_ " Eyebrows bouncing high, d'Artagnan wasn't pleased with that remark. "We're to work _together_. It may be a new concept for _you_ but not for me." Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. "The captain didn't put you in charge of my welfare. We watch each other's backs like soldiers are expected to do."

Not knowing whose toes Vachel would be stepping upon, he shut up. That's when he noted the lad's weapons. "We may have to watch each other's backs sooner than you believe if any voleurs take an interest in your valuables."

"Trust me," bit out d'Artagnan. "Wasn't my idea in the first place." Mounting Rebelle, he was more than ready to hit the streets. Wishing he had left the ring at least back home he bit his lip hard, nearly drawing blood. Vachel must have missed spotting it. Twas the only thing he hadn't commented upon. So far this had not been a great beginning. D'Artagnan hoped things would ease up once Vachel got to know him better. Pushing all of that to the back of his mind he and Vachel didn't waste anymore time to mount their horses, urging them past the Garrison gates to enter the city.

++++

_Notes:_

_Rebelle_ \- French for Rebel

_Voleur_ \- thief

_Poignard_ \- dagger


	3. Chapter 3

_Same day, still early morn_

_Hitting the streets_

Vachel and d'Artagnan had ridden up and down the streets without noting any trouble happening. They had as yet to meet up with any of the other patrols. Locating the local stable they then left their horses there to patrol upon foot.

"Tis relatively peaceful," casually remarked Vachel.

"A bit early for any of the tavernes to be open yet so I wouldn't expect anything much to happen until then." D'Artagnan knew from what his papas had always told him, that twas usually mid afternoon to late eve when the city really woke up and problems brewed.

As the two soldiers kept walking over the cobblestones they ran into a group of four men. Judging by their rough looking appearances, they had been riding hard. It didn't help that all of the strangers wore almost identical expressions... that of ruffians looking for an early fight. Twould appear that _trouble_ had indeed found d'Artagnan and Vachel after all.

"Pretty fancy piece o' leather ya wearin' upon your shoulder, kid," snorted Moise.

"'E must be a new one." Maurille snickered, drawing closer to the boy. "Not a mark upon it."

"Can't 'ave that now can we?" Cackling, Ludovic's fingers hovered over the hilt of his sword.

The fourth man with them wasn't much of a talker, he just stood there remaining silent.

Their intention was quite evident. Vachel had been worried over the wrong things apparently. Concerned with the expensive gear the young Gascon sported wasn't even the issue in this case. "We don't want any difficulties now... do we?"

"Oh I don't know," spoke up Félicien, who up until now hadn't said a word, "I 'appen ta specialize in _difficulties_." A feral grin spread across his scarred face, as he too reached for his sword.

Whipping out his sword, d'Artagnan understood the veiled threat and pointed it at the other man. "Honestly," he huffed, "I get sick at the sight of blood." Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Vachel's form stiffen with surprise. Ignoring his partner, d'Artagnan made the first move. Slashing at the ruffian's sword hand he'd made his antagonizer drop the blade he'd pulled out. Listening to the stranger cursing him, while clutching his injured hand to his chest, d'Artagnan laughed. "I should have mentioned that _your_ blood won't bother me in the slightest." Between Vachel and himself, they handled this riff-raff efficiently. by the time one of the other Musketeer patrols encountered them, they had the group of four upon their knees with hands tied behind their backs.

Jumping from his horse, Apostol approached the pair. "Vachel, tis not even the noon hour and you've found a way to occupy your time."

"Actually d'Artagnan and I both passed the time away together." Vachel still couldn't get over how fast the boy had disarmed that first roughneck. He wasn't one that listened to rumors, as the lad had pointed out earlier, but he had heard that the Gascon's handling of a blade was perfection itself. But Vachel had scoffed at the notion that a youngster of merely eighteen years could be better than a seasoned Musketeer. Having been a soldier for only a year, and at twenty five years of age, he couldn't even boast of such prowess.

"Did it again, d'Art?" asked Bard, who was still mounted but looking down at the lad with a wide grin.

Shrugging, d'Artagnan shyly smiled up at the older Musketeer that had known him a long time. "This one," he kicked out at the ruffian with the heel of his boot, "wanted to initiate my pauldron." Straightening out his uniform, he smirked. "I took exception that's all."

Laughter all around followed d'Artagnan's words, as the rest of the soldiers each took a turn teasing the lad. 

Leaning against a lamppost, arms folded, Vachel listened to the other men with amusement. "I gather they know you well, d'Artagnan?"

Having heard the question, Cannan hummed under his breath. "Ever since the lad was a petit."

"Still is." Teasing the pup good naturedly, Bard helped get this sad lot of louts back upon their feet.

"We'll take them back with us," said Apostol. "We'll make sure Captain Treville knows the two of you took them down."

"'Eh, remember when Porthos and I would sometimes go out to find some trouble just to amuse ourselves and the petit pup would trail after us?" Chuckling at the memory as it unfolded, Cannan's warm hazel eyes rested upon the boy.

"Yeah, you two would meet up with Aramis for a night upon the town." Rubbing his beard, Bard's shoulders began to shake. "None of us understood at first why Athos came tearing down the street shouting at us."

"Not until Athos pulled d'Art out from behind an overturned barrel." Cannan swiped at the tears running down his face from laughing so much. "None of us realized that the kid had followed Porthos from the house."

"I believe you all have embarrassed me quite enough," bit out d'Artagnan, with a slightly red face. Once the ribbing had quit, he watched his brothers take the strangers away. Saluting Apostol, and the others with his sword, d'Artagnan found his steps taking him back to the stable. Vachel quietly walked beside him, until they reached their destination.

"You're pretty good with that," admitted Vachel, pointing at the lad's sheathed weapon.

Surprised by the unexpected compliment, d'Artagnan didn't know how to react. Figuring in this case that silence was golden, he remained quiet. When he reached out to grab the pommel of his saddle to mount Rebelle, Vachel let out a soft whistle startling him. Twisting his head around, d'Artagnan stared back at his older comrade.

Shoving his chapeau back from his head, Vachel wondered how he'd missed it. Then again he could be forgiven for the oversight, as the Gascon's other treasures stole his attention first. "That... _ring_..."

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan glared at the valuable upon his finger. "What about it?" he snapped.

"It appears rather grand." Grimacing, Vachel sadly shook his head. "Anything else you're wearing that might land us in hot water?"

Mounting Rebelle, d'Artagnan dismissed his partner's question. Waiting for the other soldier to do the same with his own horse he then took the lead out of the stable.

Not quite finished, Vachel kept at it. "Dare I ask who gifted you with it?"

D'Artagnan debated whether he should lie his way out of this one or be truthful. He decided to come clean, as he had with everything else. "The cardinal."

"Of course he did. Why ever not? The man's only the First Minister of France." Musing upon all he'd discovered thus far, Vachel's lips curled upward. "I can see tis going to be very interesting working with you."

"Everyone always says the same thing whenever they have to work with my papas." With twinkling dark eyes, d'Artagnan noted a look of curiosity in Vachel's own. "I learned at their knees."

"Duly noted and warned," chuckled Vachel. "I'm still not exactly sure why the captain paired us together."

"Perhaps he felt there were things we could learn from one another."

"D'Artagnan, you learned from the regiment's best. There's nothing I could offer that would even come close."

Riding abreast of the older man, d'Artagnan slowed Rebelle's pace just enough to reach out his gloved hand to Vachel. "There's _friendship_ , mon frere."

Taking the proffered hand, Vachel smiled at the boy. "Treville may be sorry he teamed the two of us up."

"I'm counting upon it." With a mischievous grin, d'Artagnan nudged Rebelle's sides urging her into a faster run.

Not to be outdone, Vachel quickly followed the young Gascon.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

The inseparables were kept busy sparring or training with fellow brothers and some recruits. All heads turned at the entrance of the two other soldiers.

A lone brow arched, as Athos observed d'Artagnan's entrance and that of Vachel. Treville had taken him off guard, when he had learned the name of the other Musketeer to accompany his son upon the lad's first official patrol. He would keep a close eye upon Vachel. Athos had spent only a limited amount of time with the younger man and did not know a lot of Vachel's background.

"They look like they 'ad a lot o' fun." Poking his brother in the side, Porthos laughed.

"From what Apostol just told me their f _un_ came in the form of those four men over there being taken to the Bastille for threatening a Musketeer." Aramis didn't know whether to be alarmed at that or puffed up with pride.

Bending his head down, staring at the ground, Athos contemplated the many ways his hair would be going ever greyer. "I shall hazard a guess that the _Musketeer_ being threatened was our own child."

Porthos exchanged amused looks with Aramis. "The kid doesn't look 'urt so quit you're worryin', Athos."

"Aramis, what else did Apostol have to say about their encounter?" All Athos wanted to do right this very minute was hover over his son to make sure d'Artagnan had not come to harm.

Not sure if he should be the one to say this, Aramis did so anyway knowing Athos would find out sooner or later. "Twas over the fact that his pauldron was brand new."

"You're jokin'?" questioned Porthos, with a rough laugh. "That's it? Not cause o' those fancy weapons 'e got?"

"Our son wasn't in the mood to have them place their mark upon it." Humming to himself, Aramis sauntered away from his brothers. Over his shoulder he reminded them, "D'Art likes it all shiny and new."

"Perhaps we should take the liberty of breaking the pauldron in once the boy takes to his bed," suggested Athos.

"That's one of the worst ideas you've ever come up with. We gotta live with the whelp. It ain't worth it." Walking away from him, Porthos went back to scaring the life out of Pierre, who he'd just threatened to toss over his shoulder in their training exercise.

With neither of his friends concerned over what could have happened to their son, Athos tried to do the same. Once, someone told him that parenthood was one of the hardest things in life to do but also one of the most rewarding. Athos would try to look for those _rewards_ and not dwell upon things that he could not change. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of d'Artagnan and Vachel speaking with Treville. The captain's laughter carried clear over to the training area where Athos stood. Things could not have been that bad if Treville's amusement was anything to go by. Shaking off his brooding, he went over to where a nervous Harbin awaited his lesson. Deciding to go easy with him, Athos slowly smiled. Apparently that had been the wrong thing to do as the other soldier appeared quite agitated and actually seemed ready to bolt. "You do know that I am not the enemy here."

"Oh really?" Shifting from foot to foot, Harbin's palms began to sweat. "Last I heard you gave poor Cyrille fits."

"Did he go to cry upon your shoulder afterwards?" Athos was sure that was what Cyrille had done.

"I found him later drowning himself in liquor over at The Wren, a blathering mess."

"Athos, is there a problem here?" Treville had noted that the look upon his lieutenant's face didn't bode well for Harbin and figured he'd best step in to diffuse whatever the situation was.

"Apparently," drawled out Athos, "I must be the harbinger of doom."

"In other words, your reputation precedes you." Lips pursed, Treville barely glanced at Harbin when he dismissed the other man. Crooking a finger at Athos, he waited for him to follow. "I'm sure you would like a report upon how well d'Artagnan did this morn."

"I admit to being mildly curious, Captain."

"I'm sure word's already reached you but lest you blow it out of all proportion I shall endeavor to explain it to you the way d'Art and Vachel just told it to me." Having the patience of a saint, where his men were concerned, Treville gazed fondly at the younger man.

A sheepish look stole over Athos features and for a moment he could not look into Treville's eyes. The weight of the older officer's hand upon his shoulder, however, had his full attention focused back where it belonged.

++++

From afar both d'Artagnan and Vachel watched the captain with Athos.

"I assume _papa Athos_ hasn't yet learned to cut those apron strings, eh?" Vachel could tell, even from this distance, that the lieutenant wasn't pleased.

"Those _apron strings_ could be mighty long and tight at times," offered d'Artagnan. "Papa's still getting used to the idea that I'm a fully grown and capable adult."

"I'm sure your père's are nothing but proud at your accomplishments." Finding himself actually meaning that, Vachel had to wonder at his own sincerity toward this Gascon boy.

"Let us not talk of them anymore and go write up our reports." Having made that suggestion, d'Artagnan headed up the steps to Captain Treville's office with Vachel only a step or two behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback is in italic
> 
> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Same day, mid afternoon - Garrison courtyard_

D'Artagnan closed his eyes briefly once he fired off his long range musket. Out of the corner of his eye papa Aramis beamed which made his lips twitch.

Clapping hands together, Aramis went over to examine the target. "Très bien. Dead center just like your previous shot." Winking at his son, he sauntered back over to the lad. "Our lessons together have reaped great benefits." Placing his hand upon the boy's slim shoulder, Aramis smiled at the shy look coming over d'Artagnan. "When you're good... you're good. You try too hard to hide your laurels under that great big bush at times."

Without saying a word, d'Artagnan watched papa go next to help out Zuri with his own marksmanship skills.

"Good shooting, d'Art."

Turning around, d'Artagnan's face split into a wide smile. "Captain. I didn't know you were watching."

"Was heading to see Captain Treville but stopped to see how far you've improved." Staring at the boy curiously, Roussel tilted his head slightly. "Have any plans after dinner?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"I'm meeting up with some old cronies over at The Wren. Thought perhaps you might want to come a long and keep this old seadog company." Laughing, Roussel's eyes twinkled.

"Could I bring someone?"

"Anyone but young Louis. His Majesty would have a fit." Roussel hoped that wasn't whom the lad had in mind.

"Non." Shaking his head, d'Artagnan spied Vachel crossing the courtyard. Waving the other man over to his side, he then introduced him to the captain. "He's the _someone_ I wanted to bring along."

Roussel took the younger man's measure and decided he liked what he saw in Vachel. "The more the merrier I always say."

"Where am I going and why?" asked Vachel, looking back and forth between the young Gascon and the captain.

"Keeping company with the captain over at The Wren later after we've supped." Once Roussel told them the exact time to be at the taverne, d'Artagnan observed the older man continue his way up to Captain Treville's office.

"You do seem to know many people of interest." Vachel couldn't get over that the boy has an old seaman like that as a close friend.

"Captain Roussel is a privateer working for Louis." When Vachel rolled his eyes, d'Artagnan could tell that his words hadn't been taken seriously. "Truly. He's worked for the crown for as long as I could remember."

" _Privateer_ , eh?" Really, Vachel shouldn't have been surprised. D'Artagnan had friends in all quarters of the city. "Tis a wonder the man hadn't absconded off with you when you were a mere petit."

"His life wouldn't have been worth living if he had," chuckled d'Artagnan, just thinking about it. "My papas would have been out for his blood. There wouldn't have been any place far enough for him to hide." After talking a few more minutes, they made arrangements to meet at d'Artagnan's house and go from there to the taverne.

++++

_Later - D'Artagnan's home, right after dinner_

"'Eh, whelp, what's up? Ya keep lookin' out that window like you're expectin' trouble?"

"Waiting for Vachel. We're going to meet Captain Roussel at The Wren."

Athos had just come out of his room to retrieve a book he had been reading, when he heard his son's words. Aramis, standing beside him, wore the same suspicious expression that Athos now too sported. As for Porthos, his face would have scared a lesser man as well. His brother's deepening scowl boded ill for the privateer.

"Roussel's not going to drag you into one of his crazy endeavors now is he?" questioned Aramis. He wondered if trailing after his son secretly wouldn't seem too overly protective. Twas a good thing he and Constance had decided to eat dinner with everyone otherwise he'd have been none the wiser about this.

"Papa," exasperated with what he knew was running through all their heads, d'Artagnan's eyes rolled, "all he said was that he was meeting old friends and asked if I wanted to join him."

"How does Vachel fit into this so called _meeting_?" slowly drawled Athos, with a gut wrenching feeling that something bad was going to happen if he wasn't there to prevent it.

"I asked him to come along. That's all there is to it, papa."

"As much as he has proven to be a good friend to us," shaking a warning finger at the lad, Athos continued, "do not let him talk you into anything." Shooting a hard look at Aramis, Athos' brow arched. "As Aramis has said Roussel's schemes usually are of the crazy variety."

"You're ones to talk about doing something _crazy_." His snort was loud, filling the room, but at this point d'Artagnan cared not a whit. "Honestly," he huffed, "All of you act as if I don't have a brain in my head and would follow him blindly."

Poking her titian head out of the kitchen, Constance stabbed everyone but the boy with an irritated look. "Let him be, do. He's a grown man now with more intelligence that the lot of you put together."

With a thankful nod in her direction, d'Artagnan decided to meet Vachel outside. It was beginning to be quite stifling in here. 

Upon the slam of the front door, all three men winced at their son's leave taking.

"I believe we've put our collective feet into it again. Our child rearing skills are getting rustier the older d'Art becomes." Admitting that, Aramis followed his wife back into the kitchen. He was going to speak with her over the remark about his lack of intelligence.

Before Aramis left, Porthos said, "Problem with that is that the kid ain't a _child_ any longer." He then went back to the table where he'd been playing solitaire. "We all seem ta forget that." Athos remained silent and tightlipped. Porthos figured he'd said enough for now.

++++

_The Wren_

When Vachel and d'Artagnan arrived, they spotted the giant of a man already seated at a table tucked away in the back. Going over to him the captain motioned for them to take a seat.

"I wasn't sure if you were going to make it knowing how your père's could be." Roussel tried not to smile, when d'Artagnan's head ducked down and turned slightly away from his own gaze. "Come now. What do you two want to drink?" After the young men told him, Roussel waved one of the barmaids over to give his order.

As for d'Artagnan and Vachel, they took in the hard looking features of the other three men seated at the table. Looks alone, they both could tell that these men had lived a hard life and a dangerous one.

Taking care of introductions, Roussel pointed at each one of his old companions. "That one there, with the eyepatch, is Xavier. Pierrick's sitting beside him and lastly is Blaise." Holding up his mug of lager, he chuckled. "Here's to old and," with a quick look at Vachel he added, "new friends."

++++

_Very Late eve - back at d'Artagnan's home_

Neither Athos or Porthos were comfortable seeking their beds when their son wasn't home yet. Twas going upon midnight and the boy still wasn't here. Just when they were about to give up and reluctantly turn in, the front door slowly creaked open.

Both men stepped out into the main living area and gasped at the sight that greeted them.

D'Artagnan's bruised and bloody face, not to mention his torn clothes, spoke of him having been involved in a terrible fight.

Athos' patience, by this point, had flown out the window. " _Bon Dieu! I knew it! I just knew it! You cannot be around that man without something catastrophic happening!_ ' Going over to the child, he pulled the younger man into their kitchen. Shoving him none too gently into the chair Porthos pulled out, Athos went to get their medicinal supplies.

"Should we go get Aramis?" Considering the lateness of the hour, Porthos reconsidered his question. It would only scare Constance and cause Aramis to lose much needed sleep as he had to get up quite early to carry a missive of import for the king. "Forget I said that." Staring down at his son, Porthos sighed. "Kid, remember when ya were very young and couldn't wait ta grow up so ya could do whatever ya wanted, whenever ya wanted like us?" Crossing his arms, Porthos' expression turned stern. "'Ow's that workin' out for ya?" The lad remained silent and wouldn't look at him. Turning the one sided conversation into another direction, he asked, "Does Vachel look anythin' like ya?"

Swiping at some blood trickling down from his scalpline, d'Artagnan grimaced. "He may consider going out with me could be hazardous to his health," he quipped lightly. However, papa didn't seem to appreciate his sad attempt at humor.

"Guessin' that means 'e looks just as bad or worse," grunted Porthos. "Tell me that Roussel didn't get off lightly?"

"We got separated. I don't know how he fared." Jerking away from papa Athos, d'Artagnan hissed out in pain while his scalp wound was being treated. "That hurt worse than when the bottle hit my head." Then he gulped at the glowering face turned upon him. After d'Artagnan had accidentally blurted that admission out he bit his lip hard, vowing not to complain anymore. " _OUCH! You did that deliberately!_ "

"Tell us what occurred that you come back to us in this condition." Athos silently kept telling himself not to rage at the child but it was hard when his son came back in such poor shape.

"It all started off innocently enough." Remembering the reason for his abused muscles to be screaming at him, d'Artagnan grimaced.

++++

_FLASHBACK_

_"They all were enjoying their drinks. D'Artagnan and Vachel shared amused but interested looks listening to the stories being swapped. Each seaman's tale seemed to top the other one's. Both young men were positive that most of what they've heard had been greatly exaggerated for their benefit._

_All had been going smoothly, until a drunken lout plowed into the chair holding Blaise making the man drop his drink to shatter upon the floor. Instantly he shot up out of his seat making it fall over with a clatter. Fisting his hand in the drunk's shirt, he gave the other man a good shake threatening bodily harm to the sod all the while._

_Vachel tried to calm Blaise down but only ended up with a punch to his face from one of the drunk's pals._

_Then d'Artagnan jumped into the fray and more punches were traded. Tables suddenly found themselves overturned, as the barkeep screamed insults at all of them for trashing his establishment. He lost track of how many others became involved. Tumbling over the tabletop from a blow to his head from a thrown bottle, d'Artagnan shook off his daze and went to pull off another man attacking Vachel._ _He had long since lost sight of Captain Roussel and the seaman's friend Pierrick. However, Xavier came sailing over several tables to land at his feet. Helping the old sailor back up, d'Artagnan just had enough time to duck from a right hook to the face. Unfortunately that fist slammed into Xavier's jaw instead, knocking the older man back down to the floor again. D'Artagnan also noted that somewhere along the way Xavier had lost his eyepatch as well.  
_

_Out of breath, and out of sorts, Vachel somehow made his way to the Gascon's side. "Is this a new way of making friends and influencing people?"_

_Dodging a meaty fist coming for him, d'Artagnan stumbled back into Vachel's body. The latter kept him from doing a header over some of the overturned chairs that were in the way. "Tis never dull around the captain."_

_"Once your père's get a good look at you they may reconsider letting you out upon your own." Vachel dragged the boy away and managed to get them both back outside without running into any interference._

_"Do I look as bad as you?" D'Artagnan could feel blood running down his face. Some of it had already begun crusting in certain places. His arm muscles were strained as well and told him so readily._

_Reaching out to touch the boy's ripped and bloody shirt, Vachel winced. "I'm sure we look about the same, d'Artagnan."_

_"D'Art, my friends call me that."_

_Grinning, Vachel clapped the lad's shoulder. "It took a fight to establish friendship?"_

_"It happened the same way for my papas... why not us?" As d'Artagnan stood there with Vachel they were witness to Pierrick's body flying through the glass window. "I wondered what had happened to him." Lifting the man up, he began to dust him off. "Any sign of the captain?"_

_"Last I saw of him, Roussel was busting heads." With a rough laugh, Pierrick ran back inside the taverne._

_"Let's go," urged Vachel. "As it stands, I'm going to have to sneak in the barracks so I don't get asked too many questions. I hope you can as well."_

_Walking partway back together they then took separate paths home.  
_

++++

_END FLASHBACK_

" _Will you quit that!_ " Pushing papa Athos' hand away from the cut upon his lip, d'Artagnan went to stand up but found a large hand shoving him right back down.

"Runt, let the man do 'is work. We don't want Mis ta complain about Athos' docterin'."

 _Merde,_ thought d'Artagnan. Papa Aramis wasn't going to be pleased. Let alone what Constance would have to say when she next saw him. Bu he'd worry about that upon the morrow. For now, all he wanted was to seek his bed and forget this eve ever happened.

++++

_Notes:_

_Très bien_ \- very good  
_Bon Dieu_ \- good God

Quote: "Remember when we were young and couldn't wait to grow up, so we could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted? How's that working out for you?" - from Aunty Acid.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know this is a short chapter but wanted to get something posted. RL's been busy.
> 
> See note at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Next day, early morn_

_Garrison courtyard_

D'Artagnan had found himself in the doghouse with both Constance and Aramis, after he had to tell them about his skirmish last eve. Fortunately for him, papa was too busy getting ready to leave upon a mission to take him to task too harshly. Much to his astonishment, d'Artagnan discovered that the assignment also involved papas Athos and Porthos as well. So that's how he ended up here watching all three older men leading their horses from the stable... _leaving him behind_.

"Why can't I go with you?" The stubborn jut of d'Artagnan's chin should have told them that whatever they'd say wouldn't appease him.

"Special mission, kid." Mounting Roulette, Porthos gazed down at his son fondly.

"Why didn't you or papa Athos," d'Artagnan's eyes shifted toward the older man and then back to papa Porthos again, "say anything to me last eve?"

"You comin' in all battered and bloody like made it kinda slip our minds," snapped Porthos.

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan walked over to where papa Athos stood beside Roger. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and don't understand why I'm staying here."

"Not our call," gruffly replied Athos. Gripping the pommel of his saddle, he hoisted himself atop his horse. "Take it up with Treville." Holding up a warning hand, Athos sat back to stare hard at the boy. "Do try to avoid altercations involving Roussell while we are away."

Papa's words weren't worth responding to, in regards to the sea captain. What d'Artagnan was hurt over was not being able to be part of whatever their assignment was. Knowing he was going to be left out of it, there was nothing for it but to wish them well. "Good hunting then and stay safe."

Porthos' booming laughter made the others grin. "Where's the fun in stayin' safe, whelp?"

Hands tucked under his armpits, rocking back upon his heels, d'Artagnan shrugged. "None I suppose." Farewells exchanged, sadly he had to watch them ride off without him. Shortly after they were out of his sight, he made a beeline to see Captain Treville.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

"This doesn't reflect upon you in any way, d'Art." Perched upon the edge of his well-worn mahogany desk, Treville studied the unhappy youth. Deeply sighing, he rubbed at his chin, keeping his gaze steady upon the lad. "I needed you back here to help carry out the training of my other recruits." The face the pup made nearly made Treville smile. "Young as you are your skills are above reproach."

"Which begs me to differ upon your judgment in keeping me from going with them," scoffed d'Artagnan. He knew soldiers shouldn't argue with their superiors but this man had known him since he had been a mere bébé.

Feeling his earlier headache coming back to the fore, Treville stared over the boy's head at the map upon the wall. "We're never going to agree, so why don't you go back down to the training area and gather the next batch of recruits together." He slid off the desk to stand in front of d'Artagnan. "I'll be down to inspect them momentarily."

Giving the captain a jerky nod of his head d'Artagnan spun around and left the office, without saying a word of backtalk.

++++

_Courtyard_

Bumping shoulders against the Gascon's, Vachel was surprised to have not gotten a response. He'd been watching d'Artagnan ordering the recruits together and knew something was up. As silence reigned between them, he studied the boy's features noting d'Artagnan's mind appeared taken up with other matters. So Vachel stood beside him waiting for the lad to acknowledge his presence. It wasn't until the appearance of the captain that his friend showed any signs of animation.

Walking up and down, in front of the recruits, Treville's right eye twitched. Some of these men looked like a good stiff wind would blow them over. Yet, a few others definitely had the makings of soldiers that would help defend the crown if need be. A sideways glance over d'Artagnan's way made him wince internally. The boy wouldn't even look at him. Perhaps Treville had made the wrong decision in not letting the lad go along with the inseparables.

Not wanting to step upon anyone's toes at this juncture, Vachel remained silent until the captain had departed. Then placing a hand upon the boy's chest to keep d'Artagnan in place, he cocked his head to the side. "Something has happened and I want to know what it is."

Lips tightening into a straight line, d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed thinking that it was none of Vachel's business. Then again, if the captain kept teaming them up together there shouldn't be any secrets between them. Especially if those secrets could come back to bite them in the ass. "The captain assigned a mission to my papas and I was left out of it."

Vachel knew what it was like to be left behind when his brothers-in-arms were given a mission he wasn't privvy too. "Tell you what, d'Art, seeing as you've recovered from last eve, and it all goes well with the training, if time allows why don't you and I go to the lake."

One dark eyebrow shot up. "I didn't know you went to the lake too."

Arms folded, Vachel's eyes crinkled up in the corners. "Why? I didn't know the lake was taboo for the rest of us." Punching the young Gascon in the shoulder lightly, he was amused when d'Artagnan ducked his head.

"When I was a child twas where they would take me for picnics and when I was older we'd go for swims or fishing."

"Then that's what you and I shall do later today when we've finished our work." Satisfied that he had been able to brighten the boy's mood somewhat, Vachel threw an arm about d'Artagnan's shoulder to steer him in the direction of the training area.

"I could ask Constance to fix us up a basket," offered d'Artagnan.

"I hear she's a good cook and has superb baking skills as well," laughing, Vachel added, "or so Aramis says."

"Constance is the best." Looking forward to their outing, d'Artagnan cleared his thoughts of all else.

++++

_Five days into the inseparable's travels to Nevers - late eve_

_In a run-down shack located in the outskirts of the city_

"Ain't this a nice fix we're all in," grunted Porthos, from his position upon the floor with his back against a wall. Trussed up beside him were his other two friends. Neither of whom were any happier about their circumstances.

"Apparently we were all blind, deaf and just plain stupid to not realize we were being followed." Athos was very glad that they had not taken their son with them, seeing how they all ended up in this predicament. Shooting a glowering glance at Aramis, he wondered why his brother had become so quiet.

Filling in the silence, Porthos said, "If'n Constance were here I'd betcha those maladrin's faces would be smartin' about now." Noting Aramis grinning, he relaxed. That's what he was aiming for.

"Her temper's one of the reasons why I love her so much."

"In other men that would 'ave 'ad 'em runnin' the other way," quipped Porthos, lightening the tense atmosphere considerably.

"Wonder what they plan to do with us." Aramis wasn't dense, though sometimes he liked to play the fool. They were intercepted because of the letter and package they carried from the king. Why didn't Captain Treville think of sending out a decoy squad?

As if he knew what had been in the marksman's mind, Athos offered up his thoughts. "There were not enough men left for decoy units. You know how thinly the regiment is spread right now."

"Yeah," agreed Porthos. "The captin's got four squads out right now all with their own assignments."

"They're going to be worried when they find out we never made it to Nevers." Aramis locked eyes with his friends. Nothing had to be said between them. Moments like this were always a risk in their profession. He could only send up prayers that they would safely return to their loved ones.

++++

_A day and a half later - past noon_

_Captain Treville's office_

"Cardinal Richelieu has been in contact with Comte Escoffier via carrier pigeons. It only takes six days give or take to journey to Nevers and the inseparables never made it." Treville had a hard time meeting d'Artagnan's worried features. "Because of the nature of what they carried, Escoffier didn't waste any time informing us."

Aside from d'Artagnan, Vachel, Chandler, Quintrell and Erek were all present. Pacing back and forth, Treville tried not to let his emotions show. "I'm assigning you five to take the same path to Nevers and locate them. I pray they are alive but what I must emphasize is that what they carried was of more import than their lives. That package and missive for the Comte must not fall into enemy hands."

"Whatever the outcome," spoke up d'Artagnan, knowing he had the most vested interest, "we shall deliver both into the Comte Escoffier's hands." When the captain came up to him, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder, d'Artagnan swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him.

"I know you will, son." Gazing at the men, Treville continued. "Now all of you gather your supplies together. I want you to leave before the light of day is gone."

"They're not dead," murmured d'Artagnan, only loud enough for Vachel's ears.

"Of course not." Grinning, slapping the boy's back, Vachel followed him outside and down the steps. "They wouldn't be the inseparables if they were."

++++

_Notes:_

_Maladrins_ \- brigands


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again another short chapter.  
> Sorry but RL doesn't let up. Aside from me starting back full-time again at the library I had another funeral viewing to attend which hasn't helped my spirits much.  
> First my cousin lost her dad around Thanksgiving (that was my uncle) and now she lost what she considered as her second dad or big brother to Covid. She basically lives with that family too and had to quarantine even though no one else in the household tested positive. It's been a rough Xmas. Now that I'm back to work on a regular basis, I'm having to catch up on my other chores, etc.  
> I hope to be getting back into the rhythm of things soon with longer chapters.
> 
> +++++

_En route to Nevers_

"Someone's following us," said Chandler, with a quick glance at the other men.

"I know," responded d'Artagnan. Apparently, because he was the youngest, he had surprised the other soldiers that he was astute enough to realize someone else was upon their tail. A brief look toward Vachel made his lips turn up. The smirk on his friend's face told d'Artagnan that Vachel hadn't been the least surprised.

"Why don't we hide over in those trees and surprise whomever it is," suggested Vachel. The others immediately agreed and urged their horses in that direction. They didn't have long to wait, when they noted the approach of the lone rider. As soon as the stranger was in view, they all rode out from their hiding spot to engage him. The boisterous laughter that accompanied the large man they encountered took them all aback.

"What a greeting," laughed Roussel. He focused particularly upon the young Gascon. "Thought I'd help you, lad, in finding your famille."

A soft smile graced d'Artagnan's worried features. "I'd never turn down an offer of help, Captain, and never yours."

"Aye," Roussel's eyes sparkled, "I thought as much. Now what's the plan?"

"Er," Quintrell appeared slightly nervous in answering this, "there isn't one as yet since we don't know what's actually detained the inseparables."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Roussel slowly nodded his head. "Still, we should have one when we stumble upon them."

Erek shrugged, "Works for me."

++++

_Still in the same run-down shack located in the outskirts of Nevers_

"Why don't they just get it over and done with," growled Porthos.

"I'm not in such a hurry to die," hissed Aramis, "why are you?"

A deep sigh emerged from Athos. "For some reason they must need us alive yet." Stabbing each of his friends with a long look, he added, "Let us not cause any of them to change their minds just yet." Both his brothers nodded their agreement.

++++

_Days later, close to Nevers_

After traveling nearly non-stop, even eating while still upon their horses and only stopping occasionally for quick naps, the Musketeers along with the captain nearly reached the city.

"Mmmmm," hummed Roussel, lifting a finger to point it at a crumbling building. "That looks right inviting. What do you think, boys?"

Lifting a brow, Vachel cleared his throat. "' _Boys?_ " Not sure if he should take offence at that.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" Wondering why he had four scowling faces staring back at him, Roussel snorted. "Would you feel better if I only referred to d'Art that way?"

Ignoring the captain's words, Vachel glanced at d'Artagnan. "What say you? Think it's worth checking out?"

"I'd rather keep going straight to the Comte's estate." Giving the matter another thought, d'Artagnan reconsidered. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to look into it."

"Aye, child, that's the spirit." Relishing a good fight, Roussel was hoping to find one soon.

++++

_Inside the shack again_

"Have you worked through your bonds yet?" quietly questioned Athos.

Porthos could feel blood trickling down his wrists from where he was rubbing them raw. Grunting, he shook his head. "They're still nice n' tight."

Aramis blew out a breath, as he too had tried to struggle out of the ropes. With a sad glance toward Athos, he too shook his head.

None of them were having any luck at this. Athos kept thinking back to the last time they all saw their son and how upset d'Artagnan had been that he could not be with them. Now Athos was certainly glad that their child had been left behind, considering what their fate may yet turn out to be.

++++

_Back outside_

As the group of six drew closer to the rundown building, they then noted horses tethered nearby. That's when they realized they were onto something. Twas then that the captain altered the plan he'd given voice to earlier.

"That's your idea?" Quintrell had heard better plans in his time as a soldier. This one had too many variables that could go sideways.

Vachel was more than uncomfortable with the idea. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the boy was going to volunteer himself. Bien, if that was the case then d'Artagnan wasn't going in alone.

"I'll do it," volunteered d'Artagnan, amongst protests from the rest of the men. However catching sight of the look crossing Vachel's face, he knew his friend had been expecting this. Wagging a finger at him, he snarked. "You don't know me that well yet."

"Doesn't take much to know how your mind works, kid." With a rueful shake of his head Vachel held up his hand to the others, staving off remaining protests still coming the Gascon's way.

"No harm shall fall upon his head," vowed Roussel. "Especially when I'd have to suffer the consequences from d'Art's père's." A few of the soldiers chuckled at his remark.

"I can't say that I agree with this but let's make the best out of the situation." Chandler prayed that all they would be finding were stragglers seeking out a place to stay overnight.

++++

_Inside the building again  
_

The inseparables had been quietly commiserating with one another when suddenly the door crashed open. When the ones that snatched them pushed two familiar individuals into the room, their mouths fell open in shock and then just as quickly snapped shut.

"Watch the pauldron if you would," snapped d'Artagnan to the rough looking man that had shoved him past the door.

"I agree with my young friend." Giving a disdainful glance toward the man who had also manhandled him, Vachel sniffed haughtily. "I've barely broken mine in." That was a bit of a lie but these rats didn't need to know that.

Both d'Artagnan and Vachel were then roughly thrown down to the floor and had their hands tied behind their backs.

Once their captors backed off, d'Artagnan leaned forward to stare at the inseparables. Tilting his head somewhat, he grinned cheekily at them. "Miss me?"

" _Merde!_ " Aramis couldn't believe this. If he hadn't already been trussed up, he'd give his son a thrashing.

" _Mon Dieu!_ " Narrowing his eyes upon the child, Athos felt a murderous rage fill him. Not at the pup but at the ones who dared laid their filthy hands upon d'Artagnan.

" _What the 'ell!_ _You've gotta be kiddin' me!_ " Blinking his eyes a few times just in case he was hallucinating, Porthos stared at his kid. There would be words exchanged later between them but for now he waited to see how this all played out.


	7. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did say this wasn't going to be a long story. Hope you all enjoy the ending.
> 
> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

_We last saw Captain Roussel's plan being put into action, much to the upset of the inseparables._

A raised brow followed by a pointed look toward his impulsive, and sometimes reckless son, had Athos contemplating the boy's rescue plan. For that had to be what this was considering that neither of the younger men appeared that worried over their situation.

++++

"Still think this was a good idea not to kill the first three we captured?" complained Anicet. "Now we got us five to get rid of."

"Easy there, Cyrille." Rainier wasn't concerned. He actually had a different idea of how to dispose of them. A wicked glint entered his eyes, as they slid toward his captives. "Maxence should give us a hefty sum for the lot of them... especially for the two younger ones." A low chuckling caught Rainier's attention.

Gaspard slyly grinned. "I like the way you think." Understanding how their leader's mind worked, Hilaire silently applauded the man. "However, last time good ole _Max_ tried to cheat us out of our due."

Twirling a poignard in his hand, Rainier nodded his head remembering that. "He won't this time." The underlying threat hung in the air.

++++

"Twould appear we have now become objects of amusement." Athos frowned, knowing that whatever those maladrins were discussing boded ill for his comrades and young son.

Hearing papa's words, d'Artagnan glanced at the gang still conversing across the room. Every now and then they gazed his and Vachel's way. Looking toward his friend he noted the way Vachel rolled his eyes.

Leaning until his shoulder bumped the kid's, Vachel whispered into the boy's ear, "I believe we've been sized up for our value."

Lurching back against the wall, d'Artagnan's body stiffened in alarm. " _Slavers_?" he hissed quietly. With a sideways glance at his papas, he shook his head making his long hair fall into his eyes. "I find it hard to believe that's their interest in the others though."

"Slaving's probably just a side business for them." Vachel figured this gang of thugs would do almost anything for the right price. Watching the lad's fingers slowly working the knots of his bonds, his lips tightened. "How's it coming?"

"I learned quite a few tricks during my visits to the Court and of course what papa Porthos taught me too." Keeping any sign of emotion from his face, d'Artagnan's busy fingers began unraveling the rope. Once freed he waited for Vachel to twist his body slightly so that he could undo his friend's bonds too.

Once that was easily accomplished the two young men both gave ear piercing whistles. At the sound, on cue, came two iron ball grenades crashing through one of the windows. They didn't know which startled the maladrins more... the cracking glass or the grenades rolling toward where they stood.

Instantly diving toward the inseparables, Vachel and d'Artagnan didn't have time to undo the older men's bonds but did manage to help them gain their feet. They quickly herded them toward the opposite end of the building before the grenades exploded.

"Good plan, whelp." Voice filled with sarcasm, Porthos was disappointed in their escape plan. "Just one thing wrong with it." He didn't understand why the pup and Vachel kept pushing them around. There wasn't anyway they'd be getting out of here before the whole place came down upon them. "We're gonna blow up with that scum too." That was when he noted an opening that hadn't been there when they had been first brought in. Splintered and broken wooden boards were scattered inside and out of the dilapidated structure, giving them access to liberty.

Poking his head through the gaping hole he and the other lads had worked hard upon, Roussel glowered at the inseparables. " _What are you waiting for!_ " he roared. " _An engraved invitation! Get your bloody asses moving!"_

D'Artagnan was the last one through when most of the shack blew up behind him. Hard to believe this had all happened in under a minute but luck had been with them, along with longer lit fuses attached to the grenades giving them precious seconds needed.

"Considering we just saved your sorry hides," huffed Roussel, "none of you appear grateful."

Slowly clapping his hands, Aramis bowed with a flourish only he could pull off. "We are most pleased to be alive." Tilting his head to the side, he studied the old seadog. "Your plan I take it?"

"Aye." Roussel noted the scowl that seemed to be forever imprinted upon Athos' face. "Too good to thank us, eh?"

"His Majesty's missive and package are still within that place." Jerking his head at what was left of the shack, Athos simply stared at it. Feverishly wondering what story he could give Treville that would appease the officer, he listened to the seaman's jovial chuckles.

" _Ah!_ " Roussel winked at his young Gascon friend. "You men wouldn't have realized it because of the way it was wrapped but..." he let the boy take over.

"Before we set out, Captain Treville informed us that the king's package, with the letter it contained, were in a specially designed container that could withstand almost anything." With a slight bow of his own, he waved toward the hole they just crawled out of. "Age before beauty," he smirked, which earned hm a playful swat to his backside from papa Porthos.

Minutes later coming back outside Quintrell tossed the metal box, with it's shredded wrappings around it, at d'Artagnan. Deftly catching it with both hands he presented it to papa Athos. "Happy now?"

"Estatic." Athos' droll tone caused the rest of the men much amusement.

++++

_Leaving Comte Escoffier's estate_

_Much later, having finally fulfilled their assignment, everyone was back en route to Paris._

One would think that after all that excitement twould be an uneventful trip back home... _one would be wrong_.

They had stopped in a town along the way back to partake of food they themselves hadn't cooked over a campfire, plus some much needed libations. Unfortunately fate had other plans in regards to the Musketeer's two guignards.

D'Artagnan and Vachel were tossed out the taverne's door like so much garbage. But they weren't the only ones as three others sailed past the door after them.

Standing beside their horses, the rest of the Musketeers and Captain Roussel looked upon with interest, not entirely sure if they should intervene or not.

Roussel began to step forward but was brought to a halt by a strong arm against his chest. Following the huge limb, his gaze encountered Porthos' swarthy features.

"Let 'em 'ave some fun." Laughing, he gave a playful shove to the captain's back.

Who was he to argue with the giant? So Roussel stepped back to watch the proceedings unfold.

Once Vachel and d'Artagnan gained their feet, they whipped out their rapiers to engage the strangers that caused them to be thrown out of the establishment in the first place.

"Five sous say the pup wins," announced Aramis, counting out the few coins in his hands.

"Only five?" choked out Porthos in disbelief.

"Tis all I have until next pay comes around." Shrugging, Aramis pocketed the coins. Ignoring his brother's mutterings over the fact that Porthos believed Aramis had spent all his money upon floozies, he enjoyed the continuing chaos.

Rolling his eyes, Athos was a tad perturbed at the delay of their departure _again_. Still, he let his son and Vachel have at it.

"At least we all had a chance to eat before this happened." Erek snickered, while Chandler tried his best not to laugh. Which left Quintrell, who had expected something like this but thought twould be the inseparables causing the disruption considering their reputations.

As d'Artagnan thoroughly trounced his opponent into the dirt, with a swift jab of his blade to the other man's sword arm, he chortled to his audience. " _Louis' going to love this story!_ "

Six amused faces, along with one dour one, listened to the boy.

" _Which Louis?_ " asked Vachel with a well placed boot to his own opponent's derrière.

" _Both!_ " Taking a breath, d'Artagnan observed the last man he fought slowly and painfully pick himself up from the ground. Upon his legs once more, the stranger backed away from d'Artagnan as if he were le diable himself.

Casually slinging an arm across the Gascon's shoulders, Vachel remarked, "D'Art, you'll have several tales to tell the Dauphin when we get back."

"Louis and I have had our own share of adventures." Smiling at the memories his words brought up, d'Artagnan continued. "I've pledged my sword arm to him ever since we were both petits. Once he takes the throne I'll be in charge of his personal guard detail."

"You shall be at his side if ever the Dauphin has to lead France into war." Pointing that grim reminder out, Athos sighed. His child was growing up. Where had the time all gone too?

"Tis what becoming a Musketeer means, papa." D'Artagnan's gaze fondly rested upon each of the three men that raised him. "To defend one's king and country first and to never forget your roots." He grinned and added, "Nor ones _adopted roots_ either."

Sniffling, Porthos' eyes welled up at the kid's heartfelt words.

"Are you crying?" Peering into his friend's water-filled eyes, Aramis' lips twitched. Porthos always was the more emotional of their tight threesome. Bien, _foursome_ once d'Artagnan joined their famille.

"Non. Jus' got somethin' in 'em is all."

"A likely story," snorted Athos, who was proud at what the pup had told them all.

"Nice as this is," interrupted Roussel, "I think we should hit the road again or else Treville's going to lose what's left of his hair by the time we get back to the Garrison."

However, Quintrell had his own thoughts upon the subject and voiced them. "Perhaps we'll find ourselves another taverne or inn to wet our whistles and give our two _guignards_ a chance to get thrown out again."

Much laughter was shared amongst them as they all mounted up. D'Artagnan and Vachel took the good-natured ribbing in stride. After all, they had their own reputation as _guignards_ to uphold.

_The End_

++++

_Notes:_

Thanks goes to _FierGascon_ for helping me give d'Art/Vachel their new nickname in French for which RitaMarx had wanted. - _Guignard_ means someone who is often unlucky, attracting problems. Sounds about right for d'Art and Vachel... don't you think? LOL!

_Maladrins_ \- brigands  
_Poignard_ \- dagger  
_Le diable_ \- the devil


End file.
